A Change of Plans
by CrazygurlMadness
Summary: Oneshot. AU. Zelink. "No one will deny that you did your job diligently and honourably, which is exactly why we are trying to make this entire event look good. The last thing we want is for people to start sniffing around about why one of the Queen's most familiar guards has been replaced."


**Oh god, I am sitting at this computer like 'what am I going to title this verbal accident'. It just spewed this beast in 48 hours. Help.**

 **At least I made it in time (just barely) for Valentine's Day. For that reason, this s** **tory needs its rating for language... and other content.**

 **Ooh, I have a title. Might change it if I think of anything better. Or maybe not. I suck at titles. Here it is:**

 **A Change of Plans**  
 **By CM**

Morning had barely begun to slant through the window by the time Link was out the door. In the early dawn, everything was still, just about to begin stirring. Early birds had started to chirp, but groggily and without much conviction yet.

Jingling his keys, Link raced down to the parking garage, the first of his building to leave for the day. The dashboard displayed the ungodly hour of 5:15 AM. He took a sip of his morning stew, a concoction of his own making that had the substantial advantage of being both warm and nourishing enough to replace breakfast. As the radio tuned on, he pulled out of the garage, pleased that, as usual, his timing was impeccable.

His usual route did not indicate any slowdowns, which further brightened his day. The music playing was a smooth but upbeat tune he could hum along to and there seemed to be no cloud in the sky.

As soon as he reached the highway, he engaged the automatic driver, then reached for his paperwork. Plane tickets spilled into his lap, and he irritably pushed them back into the pile. He knew the itinerary by heart now, but it still managed to dampen his good spirits somewhat.

The dashboard blinked, and Link absently tapped it, hearing the phone line open up.

"Link Forester."

"Have you left home yet?" Impa Shades' tone was all business, which did not bode well.

"I'm on my way to work." Was he late? He recalled no early appointment.

"There has been a change of plans."

Link felt a mild surge of hope. "Has the trip been cancelled?"

"No." He heard the hesitation in Impa's voice, which was a darker omen still. He waited. At length, she said, "Before you go in, please drop by my office."

"Understood."

She barely hummed a goodbye, then hung up. For a moment, Link considered calling her back, then decided against it. Whatever it was, she obviously hadn't been comfortable discussing it on an open line. And if she was upset about something he had done, or forgot to do, it was best to prepare himself.

Leaning his head against the headrest, he looked out the window as his automated car surged onto an overpass, and suddenly all of Castleton lay before him in the early dawn, a city of modern skyscrapers and classic, stately temples to business and enterprise. On the hill to the north, the tall spires of Hyrule Castle rose in the morning sun. The first sun rays over the horizon had only just begun to kiss the oxidized copper of the roof, making the green so bright it seemed white.

Somewhere in there, in that seat of power, _she_ was waking up.

For only a brief moment, Link could recall the dream he'd had right before his alarm had sounded, a dream so dark and warm that there had been no doubt in his mind that it wasn't true, a dream so comforting and arousing that he had desperately clung to its evaporating glimpses even as the shrill sound of his alarm had torn it to shreds. _She_ had been there, and he had woken almost out of breath.

Blinking hard to clear the image, although he knew it would take a few hours yet, he focused on the task at hand. Impa Shades had wanted to see him. Plans had changed.

Mentally, he reviewed the plans for the week. The morning's business was clear cut, and almost dull. It was mostly busy work in the office, then _she_ had a morning appointment with Castleton's Fifteen Hundredth Anniversary Committee, a circle of people so unthreatening that he had struggled to keep a straight face when he'd requested that Kafei Dotour run a background check on the attendees. After that, a quick lunch and it was off to the airport for a flight to―

"Your exit coming up on the right," the dashboard said, drawing his attention. He regained control of the car, seeing the curving road that lead up to the castle. It was empty for now, and the guard posted at the gate let him through without a second look. The barrier dropped behind him, and as Link came up to the employee parking, he retrieved his keycard.

He stepped out of the car just as Darunia Rocks pulled up to his own parking spot. The Goron looked as he always did in the early morning: angry he had to be there so early.

"Ugh," Darunia waved, prioritizing his morning drink before courtesy. Link barely replied, waving with a single finger as he pulled out the pile of documentation he had brought home the night before to review events scheduled for the week ahead. Darunia held the door open for him as he shuffled in.

"Morning guys," the guard at the security booth said, checking their keycards. The last time a guard had failed to check, on the grounds that the same people walked in every single day, Link had ensured he'd been demoted to janitorial duty.

Captain Viscen had since made his way back up the ranking ladder, but there had been a bit of a cold front between the two ever since.

"Impa said she needed to see me," Link said, pushing the security door open with his shoulder. "Did she call you?"

"Hm?" Darunia still looked bleary-eyed. "No. Although I expect― oh, blergh."

Turning to look at the source of Darunia's disgust, Link found himself echoing the sound under his breath.

"Captain Viscen. Didn't he get moved across the palace to the other offices so we don't have to see him?" Link asked, dropping his documents on the messy, unused pile of paper in the middle of his office. It had once looked like a desk. Somewhere by the door, Link's full name was displayed, but no one ever came looking for him there.

"He's waiting by Impa's office," Darunia observed over the rim of his cup. "Maybe she needed her boots polished."

Link snorted, but there was little humour in it. Something wasn't right. Plans had changed? And now Viscen was here? The two did not feel like a happy match.

"I have to go," Link said, dusting his hands off on his pants. "Do I look―"

Darunia didn't even glance at him. "If even a speck of dust ever ended up on your pristine uniform, I think you'd feel it like a weight. Like that princess, with the pea and the mattresses."

Link rolled his eyes as he walked away. "Well, your tie is crooked. In case you wanted to know."

"I didn't," Darunia replied, turning on his heel and strolling over to his own office to check on his messages.

Captain Viscen noticed Link approaching and mirrored his expression of veiled annoyance. "Forester."

"Viscen." He looked at Impa Shades' closed door, then back at Viscen with a hint of irony. "Have you tried knocking?"

"Oh, I've already spoken with her," Viscen said.

Link waited, but could tell Viscen was deliberately withholding information, especially to judge by the slight upturn of his lips and the glint in his eyes. Deciding that he would not give him the satisfaction of displaying curiosity ―or exasperation― Link knocked sharply at Impa's door.

"Come in."

Shutting the door behind him on Viscen's smug face, Link stood straight and saluted. "Ms. Shades."

"Forester, take a seat."

That wasn't good. She never offered seats. Link shuffled instead to stand-at-ease. "I would rather stand, Ma'am."

She looked up from the schedule she was studying, her eyes sharp as ever, and seemed to size him up.

"Suit yourself," she said, at last, carefully setting her work aside. "Forester, how long have you worked as Ms. Harkinian's personal guard?"

Link ignored the warning bells in his mind and focused. There was nothing else to do. "A little under seven years, Ma'am." He had started some six months after Darunia.

"That is an impressive record. It almost feels like your talents are wasted."

Now the alarm bells sounded like a freight train, and flags were waving across the board. "Thank you, Ma'am…" He tried in vain to keep the question out of his response, and she noticed.

Folding her hands together, Impa Shades looked at him head on and said, "It has been decided that we will assign you to more meaningful duties. Duties better suited to your skills."

"Such as?" Link could feel the words like a rumble under his feet, could feel the earth tilting ever-so-slightly.

"Palace duty. Chief of Security."

Link's jaw tightened as he reflected on this. "You want to take me off of her personal detail."

"For greener pastures," Impa said. "Meaningful work."

"I understand," Link replied, though he didn't, and he could tell that even Impa Shades, with all her cool-blooded self-control, was currently trying to approach the topic not as a promotion, but as a delicate operation. Like defusing a bomb. "I appreciate the thought," he explained, "but no."

"No?" Impa Shade's brow lifted a little, the way it did when someone defied or dismissed a direct order.

"I appreciate that you thought to promote me, but I would rather keep my current duties. I feel they are what I am best suited to. I believe that is where I should be. But I am thankful."

Impa Shades' expression barely changed, but when she spoke next, he could tell her teeth were a little clenched. "Forester." She inhaled. "I fear I might have misrepresented the situation somewhat. This isn't a suggestion."

"I was not aware that promotions were mandatory," Link said, trying to control the level of his voice.

"Well, you don't have a choice."

"Why not?" Now his voice did rise a little, and he was no longer at ease.

"This decision does not come from me," Impa said. Now her teeth were visibly clenched.

"It's Rauru? Why would Rauru―"

"Rauru Luz is not the person who made this decision, either. Forester―"

"Then _who_?" Link asked. "I don't see why anyone cares about my advancement. It's not like anyone can force me off her team, unless―"

Suddenly, a sinking feeling. He could feel it pull on his shoulders, a slinking, insidious weight that he inhaled and which settled in his stomach, turning his gut into lead.

 _Her_?

"Skies knows you're one of the better guards we've had, Forester," Impa Shades was saying, through a haze of pulsing heartbeat that almost drowned out all the sound. "But it seems Ms. Harkinian is no longer comfortable having you on her personal detail. She insists that your promotion will serve the country better."

"That's _bullshit_!"

Impa Shades snapped. "Mind your tongue, and be glad she had the courtesy to suggest that promotion. Some of your peers would do anything for a job of that level."

"No," Link said, too furious to think. "She did not do that. Why would she?"

Impa looked furious, but she somehow managed to rein her temper in. "She cited personal reasons, which is why I did not pry, but―"

Link scoffed. "Oh, come _on―_ "

"FORESTER." Her tone was enough to stop him short. She was visibly furious, her knuckles white as she sat behind her desk, the set of her shoulders so rigid it could have replaced one of Hyrule Castle's cornerstones. "It will not do for you to question this. I am not pleased either. No one will deny that you did your job diligently and honourably, which is exactly why we are trying to make this entire event look good. The last thing we want is for people to start sniffing around about why one of the Queen's most familiar guards has been replaced."

" _Why_ am I being replaced?" Link asked, trying not to tremble with helpless anger. More importantly, " _who_ is replacing me?"

But he knew the answer by the time the words were out of his mouth.

Viscen. Link could almost feel the smarm oozing under the door, where Viscen himself was no doubt listening in. Impa Shades didn't even have time to inhale before he cut her off, fury making him snarl. "Viscen? Are you even kidding me?"

"Captain Viscen is a proven, devoted guard―"

"This isn't real," Link decided. "I want to speak with her."

"I understand your frustration, but that is not possible."

"Why not? Until five minutes ago you would have trusted me to see her safely through a warzone."

Impa's anger seemed to drain out of her. "Because," she said, exhaling in obvious fatigue, "she has asked not to see you."

" _What_?"

"I understand that this comes as a shock, but you must consider this instead to be an opportunity for you. I will have Human Resources make an appointment with you to discuss your new responsibilities, and I know that you will perform your duties as befits a member of the Royal Guard."

Link was numb, his mind racing.

"For now, I think you would do well to take some well-deserved rest. Take the rest of the day off, unwind, and come back to us on Monday with― Forester? Are you listening?"

Link wasn't listening. The words washed over him and did not remain.

Then, he said, "I need to talk to her."

"I just told you―"

Link turned on his heel, swung open the door, and strode past a smirking Viscen, without glancing at him once.

Then, he paused in the hallway, turned back, and punched Captain Viscen in his fucking face.

* * *

"Oh skies, Zelda. That is not a good look for you."

Zelda glanced down at her tailored suit and skirt. It was a pale pink so light it was almost cream. "What do you mean? I wear this suit all the time."

"Ugh, no, not the clothes. The face." Malon leaned in, her curly red hair swooshing forward, in a way that made Zelda entirely conscious of how un-luxurious her own hair felt, and pinched her cheek. "Did you sleep at all last night?"

She hadn't. She had twisted and turned in bed, agonizing over her decision, aching to backtrack, and struggling to hold course. On the rare occasions she had managed to drift off to sleep, the vivid dreams would wake her up in a sweat, heart racing, and the agony would resume, more relentless than ever.

"Of course I did. Maybe I went a little light on the concealer," she absently said, reaching up to touch the area under her eyes.

"I can fetch more," Malon said, in a tone that clearly indicated that saying no was not an option. As an assistant, Malon was a lot bossier than she probably ought to be, but she had proven herself too invaluable to replace, even with her outspoken opinions.

"Suit yourself, but I'm walking out that door in five minutes with or without you," Zelda said, her tone snappier than she had wanted it to be.

"I am quick as the wind," Malon said, ignoring her crabby attitude, which Zelda appreciated much more than she would have dared to say aloud. "But before I do, might I ask a question?"

"Hm." Zelda reached for her jewellery box and pulled out two bracelets― pearl or rose quartz? Did it matter? Would anyone even care?

"Why is Darunia outside, looking upset, next to a man who is decidedly not Captain Forester?"

Zelda felt sick. "We've discussed this already. I don't want to talk about it."

Malon shrugged, and reached into her clutch for her own pad of powdered concealer. "Then you're the only one on Palace grounds who doesn't."

"Well, someone has to show decorum around here," Zelda mumbled, choosing the pearls.

"I hear he threw a fit," Malon said, lightly, tapping dust onto Zelda's cheeks as gently as a feather. "Punched your new guard right in the face."

"I wish he hadn't."

"Captain's Viscen's nose probably agrees with you," Malon said, holding in a tiny grin.

"Malon, please."

"I'm sorry. You have to admit, though, there's something to be said about a man losing his temper. Especially when it's someone as even-keeled as Captain Forester. I'm just sorry I missed it."

"This conversation ends now," Zelda said, with a finality that brokered no argument. She stood. "The situation is an improvement for him and for this team. My decision is made, and that is that."

She had used the Queen voice, and Malon knew it well enough to know she had to change gears now. Zelda watched as Malon put away the concealer and headed for the door, a picture of propriety in a suit.

"I will be right outside," Malon said, and she and her gorgeous hair were out of sight, beyond the door.

Zelda took a deep breath. Then, she removed the pearls and chose the quartz bracelet instead. She hesitated.

 _Pink looks good on you._

For a moment, she was transported to a different time, a different place. Her heart had leapt in her chest, and for an instant she could almost see his polite smile. Evening― and the sound of clinking crystal glasses― and the sight of him for the first time in his formal evening uniform. Not a crease out of place, not a hair astray. He had made her heart race.

 _Thank you._

Even demurring that much had been difficult, and then _he_ had stepped aside to let her actual partner for the evening through. And her partner's compliments did not seem to carry the weight of _his_ simple declaration. She hadn't even thought twice about it, really. Pink did look good on her. So why would _his_ saying so suddenly make her feel warm, as though she could feel his gaze on her wherever she stepped in the ballroom?

She knew he was watching, and somehow it made her feel flush. None of her guards had ever created that feeling before.

She shook herself out of the memory, and was certain she no longer looked nearly as pale.

Pink indeed.

Bracing herself, she focused on the present moment. It would not do to let her thoughts slip sideways into imagination. Imagination had kept her up long enough.

She strode out, and somehow forgot that her new guard had replaced the old, and was struck with sudden regret that she hurried to stamp out. Then, she cringed politely.

"Captains. Captain Viscen, I― has the kitchen offered you some ice?"

Viscen's nose had swollen, and an ugly purple bruise was forming under his eye. He looked like he was trying to make the bruise disappear through sheer force of will. Malon seemed excited like a little girl at the sight, and she appeared to be struggling greatly to hide it.

"That will not be necessary," Viscen said, and she knew she had stung his pride a little.

"The schedule for the day," Malon said, drawing her attention, "includes a meeting with Nabooru Spirit. She will be flying back to Colossi tomorrow, so this will be your last opportunity to touch base."

"Hm," Zelda said, as she and her assistant, tailed by her two guards, began the walk towards her meeting room. "I forget― have I mentioned what I wanted to do about the water situation for next year?"

"You slipped a word, and then you got sidetracked discussing this year's crops."

"Right," Zelda said, as she entered the room where Nabooru Spirit already waited. The tall Gerudo woman stood, bowing graciously.

 _Skies, what I wouldn't do to look like that._

Four years ago, Nabooru Spirit had been visiting on one of her quarterly trips, a trip that had coincided with the Feast of Fire. In the middle of the hot summer, the Gerudo had chosen to wear her peoples' traditional garb, a vestment of satin and embroidery and stones, an exposed stomach that only highlighted the curve of her hips and managed to make an admittedly well-covered bust seem like the prelude to a sensual night.

 _He_ had snorted. That was it, nothing more. A simple thing, but the look in his eyes was of simple dismissal. He'd seen Nabooru, and he'd moved on. It had given Zelda a flutter of hope that was absolutely unseemly in a Queen.

"Nabooru," Zelda said, banishing the memory. "We were cut short yesterday, thank you for seeing me again."

"Sands, why else would I be in Castleton?" Nabooru warmly said.

"I wanted to mention that I did receive a mention about water reserves and the upcoming end of the Water Accord. I have yet to talk with Ruto, but I know she will consent to a prolongation. In fact, I wanted to see to it that we make it a permanent trade agreement, ministers willing." She sat on one of her couches.

The furnishings in the room were stately, but decidedly feminine. Her mother had once requested that the old tapestries and heavy oaken furniture be removed in favour of more light, and lighter colours. The result was a room of simple refinement.

Zelda's hands fell to the fabric of the couch, and unbidden, the memory returned, almost like a shock. The sensuous feel of his fingers on her nape, the gentle press of relief, the warmth―

He had wanted to comfort her in a time of stress, and she had allowed herself the chance to enjoy it. It had been late afternoon and the light had been golden against her eyelids, and the touch of his fingers rubbing her nape had been intimate, and suddenly he had hit a sore point, releasing the tension there, and she had hummed…

She sat on that couch again, reliving the embarrassment of feeling his fingers snap away, of feeling more than seeing his stance become rigid, his posture as straight as a pine in Snowpeak… She had struggled to find the words to apologize― but what was there to apologize for? She hadn't requested that he touch her, and… and…

In the end, this couch reminded her of how easy it was to lie to herself.

"Obviously," Nabooru continued, and Zelda focused once again on the present moment, realizing that she had been drifting off― a result of a restless night, undoubtedly, "if Ruto Watters deems that she can spare the resources, we'll be glad to make this a permanent arrangement. I will see with my people about repaying that generosity, perhaps with lowered prices on our crops."

"That would be perfect," Zelda agreed. "If you need me to sign off on it, message me the documentation." She stood. "Honestly, the interprovincial policies are getting a little archaic. We might be better off doing away with them and allowing you to trade without royal interference."

"I defer to your judgement," Nabooru generously said. "I don't mind making the trips, really."

"I know you don't, but frankly the entire process of signing off on mutual provincial trades seems patronizing at best and downright insulting at worst." Zelda held out her hand and took Nabooru's firmly. "I will try to get the royal coffers to back down from meddling in the coming months, I promise."

"The Crown must have its cut," Nabooru teased.

 _The Crown must have its cut._

It was the New Year, a time of celebrations in the candlelit dark, and Malon had whispered it from under her mask, gently nudging Zelda around towards _him_ , in his usual pristine uniform, wearing half a mask that still allowed him to see in order to perform his duties― And Zelda had swiped Malon's hand away, the sparkling wine making her feel bold and playful.

 _I can't― he has a_ job _to do._

Malon had laughed, and Zelda couldn't help but laugh too, which drew _his_ attention, suddenly. Her eyes met his across the room, and for a brief moment what weak candlelight brightened the room seemed to dim, and time itself slowed to a stop, until she could almost feel his gaze on her like a physical thing, against the pulse racing in her neck, against the curve of her cheek, along the line of her exposed shoulder, and further down still―

Zelda cleared her throat. "Yes, well, that saying belongs to the past, if you ask me."

Nabooru nodded, and Zelda knew she agreed, though she would never have said so out loud.

"I have to go, Nabooru, but I wish you a safe journey back."

"Of course," Nabooru said, bowing once more. After more formal salutations, she finally left, and Zelda was left alone, or as alone as she could be with her assistant and her two guards, neither of which was the one that made her head ache.

"What's next?" She asked.

"Well, you have the dinner with the Fifteen Hundredth," Malon said, "And then it's back upstairs to change into travel clothes. I want to say your trip to Clock Town will be exciting and full of revel, but with the final lineup I received last night―"

"Ugh, no word on the lineup," Zelda said, immediately banishing the reminder. "I'm trying to get through the day without puking behind a settee." She caught herself. "I mean, retching." Nope, that wasn't better.

There was no way to avoid thinking about it, though, because it inevitably reminded her of the reason she was feeling so miserable.

"Lineup?" Captain Viscen said, before he had the presence of mind to stop himself. With his swollen nose, it sounded like 'lineub', and in that moment Zelda was ungraciously pleased to see his bruise was purpling, as though every abnormal colour fed her stupid, baseless hope.

"I," she said, as primly as she could, "am to find a husband and promptly bear his children." Instantly, she saw Viscen's face grow a deep burgundy of embarrassment, but before he could formulate any coherent apology, she went on. "The lineup is the selection of men I am to peruse for courtship."

"Accelerated courtship," Malon reminded her.

"Right. Skies know we cannot let the royal ovaries wilt," Zelda said, deadpan, and she shot Viscen a smile that instantly made him less embarrassed by his curiosity. "I hope you and Darunia will kindly see to it that my virtue is fully intact until the day the _grand_ consummation arrives."

She was making light of it. In other circumstances, Darunia would have joined in on the comedy.

But today, he barely reacted, his gaze fixed in mid-air, the way it did when he was on stand-by. He was ignoring her.

With a pang, Zelda realized she didn't even blame him.

Yes, she agreed. I think I hate myself too, today.

* * *

Impa Shades' office door opened to a battered-looking Kafei Dotour. "Madam, permission to speak?"

She rolled her eyes. "Come in, Dotour. What can I do for you?"

"We," Kafei said, signaling the two of them with his hands emphatically, "have a problem. A problem named Link Forester."

"I sent him home."

"Well, yes, you did, but enforcing that took somewhat more energy than we thought it would."

"Is he home now?"

Kafei sat in one of her guest chairs, grimacing, his head tilting sideways like he wasn't sure what to answer. "Eh, in a manner of speaking, I suppose."

"What do you mean? Skies, did you just dump him on his own doorstep?"

"No, I mean, he's _in_ his apartment, he's just not―" Kafei pursed his lips. "I dunno, conscious?"

Impa reached up to rub the bridge of her nose, feeling a migraine coming on. "Skies, Dotour."

"We didn't have a choice," Kafei insisted. "You _specifically_ said that he was _not_ to follow her to the airport, and, I don't know, he was like a man possessed. We actually had to pull out the riot gear and tranq' him. Twice. He was like a rhinoceros." He shook his head in disbelief. "He really liked that job."

Impa didn't reply. She knew that already. Everyone knew it. "So he is safe at home, now. And she is gone for the week. He will have time to cool off."

"Skies, Ma'am, I think that's a really optimistic prognosis. When he woke up, he broke out the single malt and started drinking right from the bottle. I had to remind him that his liver has feelings, and he said that it would be a cold day in the Dark Realm when he started to care about that. His _liver_ , Ma'am. He only has one!"

"Kafei," Impa said, "does your wife acknowledge that you have become too talkative since your wedding?"

"She says it's my only flaw," Kafei replied, rolling his eyes. "Look, Ms. Shades, this isn't like him at all. Have you ever seen him like that?"

She hadn't. She had expected him to push back. She had expected to argue, and ultimately to have to pull rank on him. She had expected anger, too. He was a determined bastard, and it was no secret he defined himself by his job. But she had thought the promotion would soothe the insult somewhat.

The day was winding down, and with the Queen away from Castleton, events would be scarce. Impa pushed herself to her feet.

"Alright, let's go."

"Go?" Kafei stood too, a reflex of basic training.

"Take me to his apartment."

The ride was shorter than she expected, and the sight when she arrived somewhat less comforting than she expected, too. As Kafei pushed open the door to Link's apartment, she saw broken glass and a tipped over table in the entryway.

"The tranquilizers had started to wear off," Kafei whispered as an explanation.

"Forester," she said, stepping over the broken glass and into the apartment, hoping the imperiousness of her voice would suffice to command respect.

She only heard a grunt, and she found him sitting in his bathtub, looking green. There was no sign of vomit yet, but he was still working on his bottle.

"Stand, Captain Forester," Impa commanded.

He mumbled something, and didn't move. His eyes were glassy. Something inside Impa trembled at the sight of him. Kafei had not exaggerated. He truly was a mess.

"What was that, Forester?"

She leaned forward, expecting him to apologize, to stand, to attempt to make himself presentable. But his uniform was in disarray, strewn about the apartment. He half lay in the tub in a t-shirt and his underwear.

"I quit," she heard him mumble.

Impa Shades had heard worse things in her time as a Royal Guard. She had been on the wrong side of fights and seen first-hand how ugly riots could get. Few things had the power to make her question the soundness of her judgement.

Or the soundness of her hearing.

No. She had to have misheard. "Say again, Forester. It sounds like you just told me you quit."

"Oh, no," Kafei said, from over her shoulder. "He was _not_ like this when I left him. This happened on its own."

"No one is accusing you, Dotour. Help me get him out of the tub."

"Leave me alone," Link said, shoving their hands away. "What do you even care?"

"We have been coworkers for a little under ten years," Impa said. "And I care for my own. Now help me help you."

Link mumbled something that sounded like a suggestion on where to go instead.

"Ms. Shades," Kafei said. "Might I have a word?"

Sighing, she followed her Guard into the hallway. "What is it?"

"Can't you tell him?"

"Tell him…?"

"Tell him why she didn't want him around anymore?"

Impa didn't want to. It would be a difficult conversation, and an uncomfortable one, too. Especially the timing of it―

"Dotour―"

"Don't you think he deserves to know? Maybe it will give him closure?"

There were a lot of things that conversation would generate, but closure was possibly the least likely of them all. It would be ugly business all around. "You don't know what she said."

"It can't have been that bad. I mean, they worked together for seven years without a single moment of discomfort. Right?"

As far as anyone had known, that was true. But Impa now knew better, and she almost felt pity for Link. Those seven years of kindness had ended up costing him the only source of pride he'd apparently ever had. But telling him that would likely help no one.

Besides, she had more reasons still to keep quiet. The Queen had spoken in confidence. They had agreed on the official story. They had decided on a course of action. Impa Shades was only following the agreed procedure. She would not stray until she could discuss it with the Queen again, directly. A week's time. By then, Forester would have perhaps made the mistake of quitting.

Or he might come to his senses eventually.

"No," Impa said. "It's not my place to tell."

"Then what do we do? We can't let him quit. He's drunk."

Impa pursed her lips. "I didn't hear him say he wanted to quit. Did you?"

Kafei's eyes grew round, and he nodded emphatically. "Right, no, I didn't hear anything."

Impa Shades straightened, pulling on her uniform. "Dotour, can you organize a detail to keep an eye on him?"

"Sure, but what do we tell him?"

"For now, nothing. He will have to work through this eventually, whether he likes it or not. Remind him the promotion is open until he accepts it."

And in the meantime, she would have to hold the fort.

* * *

Link woke to a splitting headache and bright sunlight.

He rolled over to the side of the bed, found his waste bin, and retched into it.

"Oh, dude, gross."

Blearily, Link peered up through the sunlight, and saw Mikau Blue. What the fuck?

"The fuck are you doing in my apartment?"

Mikau was sitting on the couch in his room, an old college piece of furniture Link perpetually meant to discard and had never gotten around to.

"Obviously, getting ready to kiss the sleeping princess awake. I got through the thorns and everything, fended off a couple of dwarves. But now I'm having second thoughts. You should brush your teeth."

Link groaned. Too much talking. He pulled his pillow over his face, blocking out as much of the light and sound as possible.

Then he remembered _why_.

The dull ache inside of him sprang to life anew, a fresh gaping wound that he hadn't expected. The car, the call. Viscen.

 _Her_.

Ugh, skies. He felt bruised all over. Two sore spots on his shoulder and back reminded him of the fury―

"You tranquilized me, you assholes," he said into his pillow.

"Duh," Mikau said. "You were going insane. I thought you were going to break walls down. Shades said we needed to get you home, and get you home is what we did."

He vaguely remembered penciling a resignation letter, and reached out blindly towards his bedside table, but didn't find it. Peering out from under his pillow, he saw it was gone.

"I had a letter."

"Yeah, Kafei said to burn it. Didn't think that was safe, so I threw it out."

Link groaned again. "Assholes."

"Hey, you were drunk. We didn't think you'd actually want to do that in the cold light of day."

What day was it? For a moment he felt as though he had slept several days. The sleep had been almost blissful, and for most of it he hadn't felt any misery.

Vaguely, he recalled his dream, and _her_. She had been beautiful, soft, willing, and the sound of her laughter had distinctly warmed him to his core. Her hair had been all around him, her skin so soft―

Link pressed the pillow harder into his ears. She was gone. Gone. Gone. Gone.

Even in his dream, she had grown distant. She had told him― for a moment, he had watched her in the arms of another―

Viscen. Skies. He felt the rage rise inside him again.

"Mikau."

"Yep."

"Go away."

"Nope."

"If you leave, I won't kill you," Link promised.

"Tempting, but I have come armed with more tranquilizers for just such a threat."

Good to know, Link thought. He was silent for a moment, thinking to himself that it would be best to seem mollified. But a thought was crystallizing inside his mind, and he wouldn't be able to make it reality until he got rid of his watch. They were Royal Guards, traditionally trained and fully competent. And Link felt like he had been hit by a truck.

He was _better_ , though. He hadn't been on _her_ detail all those years for nothing.

Why that had to end, when he was much more skilled than his mediocre replacement, was the only thing on his mind now.

He knew Impa Shades probably knew, but he would have an easier time cracking a boulder in two with a fish than he would of extracting that from her. She was possibly better trained at resisting interrogation than anyone he had ever heard of.

But there was one person who knew the reason of his dismissal intimately.

 _She_ was in Clock Town. Inconvenient, but not insurmountable.

Oh. The lineup. For a moment, Link's stomach twisted, and he felt the urge to hurl again.

 _This is ridiculous._

She had stomped into the salon, cheeks flushed, and Link had looked up. He was always strangely happy to see her move about a room. She had a presence that made him feel both soft and strong at once. Next to him, Darunia raised a brow. She had turned to look at them.

 _Married! Children of my loins, they say! Who says loins anymore?_

The law, apparently, if Malon Ranch's quip had been was anything to go by. Link had felt his mood change for the worse as they continued discussing it. Trueborn heirs were needed to ensure the survival of the royal house of Hyrule, and the lawmen were growing antsy. If a Queen wasn't married by her third decade, the Senate would have to appoint a consort and, in a phrasing that had evidently not been updated since the Middle Ages, 'ensure the production of lineage'. She had clearly rebelled against this notion, arguing that the process was archaic, and that no such requirement existed for male rulers, to no avail.

As Darunia and Malon had argued about the merits and demerits of lineage laws, her eyes had met his across the room, and suddenly no sound reached his ears except the sound of his own heartbeat. She looked vulnerable, there, where she usually displayed resolute strength. For a brief instant, it seemed as though there was longing in her eyes, and Link averted his gaze, hating how he lied to himself.

Had he ever overstepped…? Was this her way of putting him in his place?

It was effective, at least. He had never felt so wretched. Although that was probably due to the smell of his own vomit.

"I need to piss," he said, pushing himself out of bed.

Mikau shrugged. "Take the bin with you. It's disgusting."

Link didn't argue, making his way to the bathroom and dumping the bin into the bathtub, running water in to wash it.

He shut the door.

Time to think.

With the automation born of years of habit, he contemplated his options. The best way to make them leave him alone to roam about was to convince them he had cooled off. Easy enough, though if they had setup a detail for him, there was the possibility that he had lost it somewhat the evening before. Difficulty? Eh. Easy.

The next step was to get to Clock Town. His plane tickets had only applied for the chartered royal flight from yesterday, so he was over twenty-four hours too late. He'd have to acquire new ones. Flying to Clock Town was four hours, if the plane left on time, which meant he might make it there by… he checked the digital clock on the counter. Ten P.M.? At the latest? Timely enough. Difficulty? Easy as pie.

Then there was the small matter of entering the palace on his revised credentials. It was a possibility that Impa Shades had already changed his clearance status, but Link thought it was unlikely. Shades clearly was still trying to figure out what to do with him, and none of the Guard seemed particularly excited by the prospect of his resignation. No, his clearance might have been updated within the Palace, but the odds of that change having been promulgated beyond Castleton were infinitesimal. They would want to contain any changes until Link accepted a new position. Entering the tower Citadel might well go without a hitch. Difficulty? Non-existent.

Then, he had to get past her new Guard. Darunia would probably not be a problem. He had seemed upset by the news yesterday, which may make him sympathetic. If, however, he deemed his employment more important than their seven years of collaboration, Link was stumped. Maybe the tranquilizers would help. Viscen, for his part, did not signify. Link might have to punch him again, and if anything that was a perk. Difficulty? Potentially easy, and most likely fun.

But then, there was seeing _her_ , and getting answers.

Difficulty? Unfathomable.

Link inhaled and exhaled deeply. He would cross that bridge when he came to it. Until then, he had to get ready.

He pulled the bin out of the tub and stepped into the shower. He was disgusting, and had an unusual amount of cuts and bruises. The water burned as it touched his cuts, and he grit his teeth. Let that be a warning against losing his shit again, at least.

After a while, the water started to feel good, and washing away the day's events felt almost ritualistic. He could feel his body respond to the clean, rejuvenating him like no amount of sleep ever could.

Stepping out of the shower, he reached for his toothbrush and tasted the mint on his tongue. Suddenly, he recalled a familiar memory, one that he kept close, in the dark, secret recesses of his mind.

 _She_ had knocked on his door. The entire hotel floor had been made vacant for her, so it wasn't surprising that she would feel comfortable walking around in her nightclothes, but Link had not expected any visitors. He had only stepped away for a second to set his luggage aside― he had first shift, so Darunia was already sound asleep in his own room.

She had looked stunning in a way ball gowns could not achieve, her nightdress covered with a thick bathrobe and her blonde hair in a tumbling mess around her face. She looked wry, and eminently comfortable, and utterly kissable.

 _I think housekeeping forgot to leave me a tube of toothpaste. Can I borrow yours? I would hate to make a fuss._

He'd acquiesced, if only to keep his composure. She had walked into his room without a single ounce of care, as though walking into his space was the most natural thing in the world, and he wanted her to do it again.

Gripping his toothbrush, Link tried to focus, but the memory played on, and he knew he wasn't trying very hard to prevent it.

 _What do you think of Horon City?_ She had asked, leaning towards his wide window. The skyline was the only light source in that moment, brighter than moonlight, and she looked like a vision in white and pink― worse. She looked like just an ordinary woman. The sight was like a punch to the gut, making him think it would be so easy to stride over, to run his finger against her cheek, to tilt her face up, and pull her in.

Skies, and he couldn't. The resolve was enough to lock him up. He forced out a mere, _It's alright_ , and she had nodded.

 _I'm glad you're here with me_ , she had said, walking back towards him, where he stood in the middle of the room, transfixed.

 _It's my job_ , he had said, hating himself the moment the words were out of his mouth.

She had hummed, and he wondered if he hadn't seen disappointment on her face. Then, like a cloud dispersing, she smiled at him brightly, and took his tube of toothpaste.

 _My hero_ , she teased, as she often did. Then, she pushed herself up on her toes and kissed him lightly on the cheek, before humming to herself as she left the room.

Link leaned forward, placing his forehead against the bathroom mirror's cool surface. If he even thought about it a little, he could almost summon the tingling feeling of her lips on his skin, could almost remember the passing warmth of her breath, and the debilitating smell of her hair. It has burned him like a brand, had made all sleep impossible, and had made the following nights incredibly difficult.

She was just teasing, he forced himself to remember. She must have kissed Darunia's cheek a hundred times.

And yet.

"Oi," Mikau called through the bathroom door. "You haven't slashed your wrists, right? I don't want to break down the door."

"Fuck off, Mikau," Link grumbled, loudly enough to assuage his peer's concerns.

"We love you, buddy," Mikau said, flippantly, but Link could hear him wandering off.

He had to convince them he was fine, or he'd never be left alone.

He shaved, then wrapped a towel around his waist. By the time he emerged from the bathroom and headed to his closet, Mikau looked excruciatingly bored in the living room, zapping through TV channels and complaining about daytime television.

"Seas, Forester, you've got none of the good ones."

"I'm never home," Link said, from his closet, where he was slipping on clean clothes.

"You don't even have the nudie channels. What are you, a monk?"

No, a fool. He had to think quickly. "Did I fuck you guys up yesterday?"

Mikau snorted, and as Link emerged from his bedroom, the Zora turned away from a home decorating reality show starring obese polygamist families. "Seas, the security footage from yesterday is probably going to be part of some new FT or something."

Formal training. Link tried not to smirk, and failed.

"There he is!" Mikau said, his smile brightening his face. He was an expressive Zora, and a lot less poised than the majority of his people. "Dude, you had us worried."

Link avoided any acknowledgement of the reason for that. "Do you think Impa Shades will still want me to accept the promotion?"

Mikau nodded. "If you don't, I'm on orders to kick your ass."

"Even after I use a tranquilizer on you?"

"What?"

Link almost felt sorry for him. Apologizing, he pulled out the tranq gun, which Mikau had made the mistake of leaving in the bedroom, and trained it on his loyal colleague. "I don't have a choice," he explained. The dart hit Mikau right in the central body mass.

"Dude," Mikau said, looked completely bummed out. "This is so uncool."

He mumbled some more gradually incoherent things, then he passed out on the couch. _My Big Fat Pretty Houses_ continued playing in the background.

Link grabbed his go-bag and walked out.

* * *

Ghirahim Diamonds leaned down to wetly kiss her hand, and Zelda briefly considered abdicating.

"How many more of these are there?" She asked Malon when Ghirahim was out of hearing range.

"Eight."

"Skies," Zelda muttered. The assembly before her was depressing to look at. Certainly, some of the suitors were age appropriate, and some were even not too ugly to look at, but ultimately, she would have done anything to be somewhere else.

Some of the requirements to be on the lineup were great wealth, some sort of title, or at least some form of military experience. The combination of all three was rare, and when the stars did align, she found herself smiling at men old enough to have called her father a whippersnapper.

"You know, they say men are still good to _go_ at eighty," one of them whispered at her with a grandfatherly wink.

Screaming internally, Zelda gave him a gracious smile. "How interesting."

The worst part of it all was that the actually only viable candidate in the lineup was a man she otherwise felt absolutely no kinship or affection for. Ganondorf Dragmire was a Gerudo of wealth and standing, and he even had, in that odd Gerudo way, a certain attractiveness. He was apparently ruthless in business, a trait he carried over from a stellar military career, and might have made an excellent consort.

But he wasn't… _him_.

"Your Grace," the artist-formerly-known-as Tingle said, drawing her out of her thoughts, "I would be very excited to introduce you to Mr. Keaton, a long-time friend of mine."

Oh, skies. The man wore a mask. That was _not_ something she wanted to deal with.

"I'm afraid the Queen has already promised me this dance," Ganondorf Dragmire said, coming out of the crowd like a strangely intimidating knight.

History and legend had not been kind to men named Ganondorf, but this one had yet to commit any crimes or perform any evil deeds, which made him many times more appreciated. And his timely rescue was at least chivalrous. If Zelda hadn't known that Nabooru Spirit was absolutely mad for him, she might have attempted to like him. As it was, all she could think of, as she let him steer her to the dance floor, was that propriety was a pain in the royal arse.

Without propriety, Nabooru and Ganondorf would stop spiraling around each other like colliding galaxies and make the most disgustingly beautiful Gerudo children the world had ever seen. Without propriety, Zelda would ask anyone under twenty and over forty to vacate the room.

No. Without propriety, Zelda would leave, take the first flight back to Castleton, and ask _him_ whether he felt like giving the royal womb something to work on.

"I'm surprised you're not having fun," Ganondorf said, bluntly, and she was certain she saw some glint of amusement in his golden eyes.

"Not at all," Zelda said. "But saying so might be ungracious."

"I know Hyrule's Senate asked me to consent to putting my name on this list of suitors," Ganondorf Dragmire said, his deep voice like thunder one feels more than hears, "but I must ask you to pretend it isn't." Neither of them was fully invested in the dance, and Zelda couldn't blame him. "It does not do to refuse a Queen, but another woman already―"

Nabooru. Adorable. "No, please, I understand." The luck of it. Rejected by the only proper candidate, yet she felt overwhelming relief.

They finished the song in uncomfortable silence, then parted ways near a side door.

"If you wish to go powder your nose," Ganondorf Dragmire stiffly said, "I will cover your absence for the next few minutes. Or hours, if you want."

Oddly touched, Zelda thanked him for it, and slipped out the door.

In the hallway, everything was dim and quieter, the ballroom sounds dampened by heavy doors. She leaned against the wall in the darkness, exhaling in relief. The bodice of her dress felt crushing, and she hadn't noticed how the heat inside the room could be stifling.

She was surprised to find herself alone. Usually, either _he_ or Darunia would have quietly followed her out, just in case.

But Darunia was nowhere to be found. And perhaps Viscen had not yet taken the habit of following her that closely.

It didn't matter, really. The palace was secure, and she was not so disliked that someone would go to great lengths to hurt her here. In fact, for a brief moment, she felt the elation of lonely freedom.

If memory served, there was a powder room in one of the adjacent salons. Spine tingling, she felt a childish excitement at the thought of navigating the halls and rooms in the dark, like a heroine from her novels.

Skies, what sort of bored life did she lead, if the idea of finding a powder room was the height of excitement?

It was true the past two days had lost some of their usual flavour, and there was no question as to why. Half of the reason she had gotten up in the morning had been to greet _him_. Viscen simply did not have the same appeal.

As she gently pushed open the room to a salon, she found herself in greater darkness, the moonlight pouring in between half pulled curtains.

She didn't even have to go to the restroom. She just didn't want to waste an opportunity to be _away_. Giddy at her escape, she shut the door as quietly as she could, and simply stood in the dark, breathing.

If she stood here, she could almost allow her imagination to take over. She could almost let herself picture _him_ , begging her to reconsider, pledging his undying loyalty and love―

"Skies," she whispered to herself, stopping the fantasy short. "No better than a child."

He _didn't_ love her. He certainly felt affection, as one does for a colleague, and perhaps he even felt a great deal of respect. But Zelda wanted more. She wanted him to ache for her the way she ached for him, wanted him to feel the physical pain she did when they were apart. It was hopeless and stupid, and entirely unreasonable.

She had dismissed him because it was unfair to keep him in a position without advancement. She had dismissed him for good reasons. She was certain of it.

The real reason, though, the one that ate at her in the night, was far more selfish.

Seeing him every day, feeling him so close, knowing he was devoted and knowing he did not love her… It was agony.

 _It's my job._

 _My hero._ She had kissed his cheek anyway, and she had hated herself for slipping up. He never mentioned it again, which was perhaps even more embarrassing. She was no better than a girl around him, a creature of illogical wants. A woman, and not a Queen.

The agony of seeing him every day and knowing she could not have him had festered into a painful longing that was neither healthy nor productive. Keeping him around would never allow her to move on, or to find a blessed consort, or, skies forfend, bear someone else's children.

When the fever had found her in the night and she woke breathless, convinced she could still feel his breath on her collarbone and his hands on her thighs, she had cried into her pillow until the resolution made itself inevitable. He had to go. This was no way to live.

It didn't make his absence easier, though.

"So unfair," she mumbled.

"I agree."

It was a testament to Zelda's upbringing that she did not yelp. Instead, she startled, her heart leaping in her chest, and in her panic forgot all of her self-defence training.

"Arms in," he reminded her, and she knew exactly who he was.

"Skies, Link!" She hissed. "What are you doing here?"

She hadn't seen him, and she hadn't heard him, either. How had he gotten in? The windows?

"How did you― did you crawl in through the _window_?" She asked. "We're three floors up!"

Now she could make out the outline of his form, leaning against the wall as he had been, motionless and invisible for it. He moved away from the wall and suddenly she could see his silhouette against the moonlight.

"You need to review your self-defence techniques," he said.

"Now, that's just―" Exasperation rose up within her like a billow of steam. "Link, that's not your job anymore."

"I disagree." She could hear him moving, but the darkness made it difficult to see his features. "Considering how easy it was to find you, and since neither of your guards are protecting you, it seems more relevant than ever."

"Who," she asked, frustrated, "would come looking for me _here_? Except _you_?" They had shared a moment in this room, three years ago. He'd reached out and pushed a strand of her hair behind her ear with the gentle familiarity of a lover, until she could feel the heat of his fingers burning her skin, and their eyes had locked, and for a moment she had thought he would kiss her. She brought a hand to her face, and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Listen. I know you're not entirely happy with this new arrangement, but the promotion―"

"No, fuck that promotion," Link said, almost like a snarl. Suddenly, she realized he was close. She could feel his warmth, even though they weren't touching. It reminded her of a million other moments, a myriad other proximities, all those times he'd offered his coat or held up an umbrella over her head.

She moved away. "You can't say that." She hoped he didn't hear the tremor in her voice. It was barely there. "I had to pull a lot of strings to give you that."

"Keep it." His voice was deep now, a sound that hummed along her very nerves, like a million other whispered asides and conspiratorial jokes, piled over the years into a genuine friendship. "I didn't ask for it."

She reached the windowsill, pushed open the window, and looked out. Although nicely decorated, the palace didn't look like a smooth and easy climb. "Skies, Link, did you scale the wall?" She turned back to the inside of the room, wanting the moonlight to do a better job. "This can't go on. It's not healthy."

"What's not healthy," he said, and finally she saw him as he stepped forward, dressed all in black, still infuriatingly handsome, "is that you upended my entire life on a whim. You didn't even consult me."

"Consult you?" She forced herself to sound regal, but worried she sounded hysterical instead. "It's my team. Why should I consult you?"

He came closer, and she realized that, in the window alcove, there was no escape. Her heart started to race in panic.

"Link, listen―"

" _Why_?"

Now she could see him correctly, all serious fervor. And she heard the raw ache in his voice. It made her want to embrace him, to never let go.

Skies, she was so stupid.

"I―" Tears sprang to her eyes. The shame, the loneliness. It all came crashing into her, mingled with desperation. "Please don't make me say it."

"Just tell me," he said, angrily. "What did I do wrong? Have I ever hurt you?"

She shut her eyes tightly. What could she say? The words were jumbled in her mind, along with a million secret smiles and grimaces, built on thousands of hours of shared time, of late work, of political frustrations. She saw him in every early morning, every late night, every ballroom and every office she had ever entered for the past seven years, smelled his soap, his clothes, his hair in every breath she had taken during that time, and felt his warmth, his gentleness, his firm teachings― How could she begin to describe the overwhelming emotion that paralyzed her when he looked at her just so?

The shame was wearing on her. It would take a long time to recover.

"… Zelda."

"I love you," she whispered, in a rush, to make it go quicker. She had sounded as meek as a mouse, and she was glad her eyes were closed, or he'd see the embarrassment she felt. "I didn't mean to."

Oh, she wanted to melt into the floor. There was nothing regal about this.

He was silent. That was the worst part. She could imagine the disgust on his face, or at the very least the polite pity. She wasn't sure which would be worse, but she had to open her eyes and find out.

* * *

The silence stretched on, but it wasn't that Link meant it to.

He was just speechless.

She opened her eyes, having flinched away from him, which had hurt beyond belief. Seeing his expression, her eyes widened, and a torrent of words started pouring out her mouth.

"I didn't want you to be punished for my mistake. It wasn't― I tried to stop it, I swear. I know we're friends, or as friendly as two people in our situations can be, and it wasn't at all what I planned when you were hired. You were the best of your class, and you still are. I didn't mean to, and I didn't want to coerce you into reciprocating. It's like you said, it's just your job, and it would have been wrong of me to ask you for anything like that. You were already devoting so much of your time and energy to protecting me, and maybe, you know, it was just normal that it should happen. I mean, we spent so much time together, and you―"

For a fraction of a second, seven years' worth of memories piled into Link's mind, like broken glass, and in every speck of light, he saw _her_. Ball gown. Suit. Heels clicking. In a sundress. On the beach. On a ski lift. Presenting a speech. Clapping politely. Cutting ribbons. Choosing her jewellery. Crinkling her nose. Absently brushing away her hair. Tapping a pen against her lips. Skipping in the palace halls after a successful parliamentary session. Crying at a romance movie.

Kissing his cheek. Humming at the touch of his fingers.

Sighing in the darkness of his dreams.

"I don't expect you to do or say anything." She was still talking. "I just― I was being selfish, and now it's best if I let you go and pursue your full potential."

Her lips were pink even in the moonlight, forming words in that way that seemed to mesmerize him. He had once looked at her giving a speech, and imagined those lips forming the words 'kiss me'. That following month had been difficult. He had become very good at honing his imagination.

"― I know it's too much to hope that you will miss me―"

Hm. Miss me. Close enough.

She was mid-sentence when his lips collided with hers.

* * *

It took Zelda a moment to process what was happening, mostly because it was stupendous.

With Link so close, it seemed he took up every available nook and cranny of her physical space and consciousness. The world shrunk, reduced to his lips on her and his hands on her arms. He was warm, he smelled nice, and the entire experience was dizzying, so that a soaring bubble of elation burst forth, and she sighed against him.

Somehow, that did not bring him to his senses. If anything, it made him kiss her harder with a thrum inside his throat that sounded a bit like a groan. It was by far the most primitive and thrilling feeling of her life, a sensation so physical that she wondered how her body had managed to keep so many nerves hidden from her for so long.

She laced her hands up around his neck even as he picked her up and pushed her against the windowsill. Her heart raced and she wondered when she had last paused to breathe.

He broke for air first, breathing hard as he leaned in to rake his teeth against the skin of her neck, then up against her ear, and the hot breath made her squirm with want.

She pulled him closer, pressing against him and kissing him once again. None of her dreams had come close to the desperate need they both felt now. She worried, in some dark, unimportant corner of her mind, whether she would be able to let go one day.

* * *

His hands were roaming. He couldn't stop. She breathed his name, and it was everything he had ever hoped for.

"Stop me," he begged, breathless against her lips, even as he pressed against her and made her gasp. She was so responsive, so damn pliant and soft, it was the sweetest torture. She had to stop him. If she didn't―

"Go on," she sighed, her tone dark and almost cruel, the rasp in her voice matching her swollen lips. Witch.

But something did stop him. A tiny shred of common sense that remained, the last sliver of conscious thought that he had been ready to brush away.

She was the Queen.

Reluctantly, he forced himself to stop kissing her, an endeavour that was hampered by her ridiculously kissable, swollen lips. "Zelda," he rasped.

"What?" She was out of breath and her collar line had slid down somewhat, which made concentration doubly difficult.

"My… Queen…" He reminded her, looking at her and feeling the strain of self-control.

In the moonlight she was disheveled, with a ruffled ball gown, like the princess with the silver slipper after midnight, her lips pink and plump, eyes narrowed with desire, and chest rising and falling heavily to catch her breath.

"Oh," she said, cringing. Then, her tone took on a little bit of a whine, which sounded adorable, "Now why did you have to say that?"

"Lineup."

She put her hand in his face and pushed. He laughed, and she laughed, too.

* * *

"Ma'am."

"Go away, I am busy," Impa Shades said, even as Kafei Dotour ignored her and rolled in the mobile TV set into her office. Mikau Blue was right behind him, looking giddy.

"You have time to watch this."

"I do not."

Dotour ignored her completely. He tuned the TV to the national news.

"This," he said, "is history."

'… coming on the heels of a major announcement yesterday. Queen Zelda Harkinian has indicated her intention to marry Captain Link Forester, a member of her very own Royal Guard.'

"Spectacle," Impa said, dismissively.

"Like that princess story, with the ugly guy," Mikau said, wistfully. "What was it called?"

"Be more specific," Kafei suggested.

"He means _Beauty and the Beast_." Instantly, Impa regretted answering their question, because they both turned to look at her, grinning wolfishly. Groaning, she ignored them.

'Rumours had long circulated about the Queen's seemingly familiar relationship with her Hylian guard, but until recently, no confirmation―'

"I bet he'll be a terrible king," Mikau said, as images of Link and Zelda played on the screen, their happiness almost unbearably cute.

"Worst king ever," Kafei agreed, pulling out a bag of cashews. "He's going to hate every second."

The screen was now playing back two-year-old footage of Link escorting Zelda out of her car in the pouring rain, covering her with an umbrella with the same care and devotion they had all come to expect from him over the years. On screen, the two exchanged a smile that oozed love so obvious that Impa was actually a little angry it had taken the royal couple seven years and the Senate's pressure to act on it.

Now, the screen displayed footage from the engagement press conference, from yesterday. Malon Ranch's announcement and delivery were impeccable, but no one had been interested in her the slightest, because right behind her, Link and Zelda had exchanged a smile that was now plastered on front pages all over the world.

"They're calling it a modern fairy tale," Kafei said, pensively.

"It totally is," Mikau opined. "Seas, we won't be hearing the end of it. Six months of marriage prep. It'll be inescapable."

"And then it's going to be the children. Ugh, their kids will be so stupidly cute. Am I right, Ma'am?"

Impa wanted to reply, but she was looking at the screen, where Link, in his pristine uniform, held out his arm to Zelda, a movement he'd done many times before. But now, there was a closeness, an intimacy, and a genuine joy that seemed to radiate from the two of them. And Impa couldn't speak for the lump in her throat.

"Ma'am?" Mikau turned, and his eyes went wide.

"Shut up, soldier," she managed, wiping her eyes. "If this gets out, you can look forward to janitorial duties for the rest of your life."

Mikau and Kafei were speechless, then, with a smile, Kafei held out his snack.

"Cashew?"

* * *

 **So. Just to clarify:**

 **This story did not exist three days ago. I was just minding my own business, doing my work, thinking about deadlines, preparing government bids, doing invoicing, and generally being an adult. Mostly.**

 **But, like, _Breath of the Wild_ , bitches! I don't remember being this hyped since the day of the _Twilight Princess_ reveal (you remember, right? The video at E3 2004 ―oh my god, 13 years, I was FIFTEEN, CHRIST GOD FUCK― , with Miyamoto? Where he walks on stage after the trailer, with the sword and shield? That one). And like, I have been hurt before, but I never learn. Because what if this game finally goes full, actual, unequivocal Zelink _and_ Link also goes shirtless? I _am only human_ , you guys.**

 **Help.**

 **Love,  
** **CM**


End file.
